


Survival Rate

by petersnotkingyet



Series: DC Domestic Partnership [2]
Category: Bones (TV), Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Cancer, Crying, Diagnosis, Established Relationship, Family, M/M, Protectiveness, Supportive Booth, nontraditional families, parenting, supportive team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 18:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19234288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petersnotkingyet/pseuds/petersnotkingyet
Summary: Wendell and Hotch in the wake of Wendell's diagnosis.





	Survival Rate

Booth walked Wendell down to Hotch’s office.  The team was watching them, but in the moment, Hotch was more concerned with Booth’s protective grip on Wendell’s shoulder and Wendell’s red-rimmed eyes.  Even without those warning signs, Wendell’s presence was an anomaly.  Neither of their schedules allowed for spur of the moment visits at work.

“Hey, Aaron,” Wendell said softly, and Hotch’s stomach clenched.  Since they’d been introduced through the FBI, Wendell had met him as ‘Agent Hotchner’ and then just ‘Hotch.’  He rarely called him by his first name, and he never did it in public.  Even after his concussion, he’d said ‘Hotch’ when he came to pick him up.

“Is everything okay?” Hotch asked.  Booth didn’t let go of Wendell’s shoulder.

“Can we talk in your office?” Wendell said.

“Of course.”  Hotch nodded at Booth, a silent thanks for walking Wendell over, and he returned the gesture.

“Hey, if he gets called out, come back to my office,” Booth said to Wendell.  “Sweets or me or somebody can take you home.”

“Thanks, Booth,” Wendell said.  The older man cuffed him lightly on the arm before leaving, and Hotch led Wendell into his office.

“What happened?” Hotch asked, trying to sound calm, once they were both seated in the chairs in front of his desk.

“I, uh…” Wendell said.  He was holding his broken arm in his lap, tracing the lines of the cast with his good hand as he took a breath and let it out slowly.  “The break I had from the hockey game was weird, so Dr. B took a look at my X-rays.  I saw another doctor today.”

The words came out in a rush before Wendell glanced up at Hotch.  He couldn’t get anything else out looking at the expression on Hotch’s face, so he focused on his cast again before continuing.

“I have Ewing’s sarcoma.  Bone cancer,” Wendell said.  He hesitated before continuing.  “It’s bad.”

“Wendell,” Hotch said, his voice barely more than a breath.  He got out of his chair to hug the younger man, and Wendell let his head slump forward against Hotch’s stomach.  “I’m so sorry, baby.  Why didn’t you tell me?  I could have gone with you.”

“I thought…”  Wendell sniffled.  “I mean, Dr. Brennan is brilliant, but she’s not that kind of doctor.  I thought maybe she was wrong or it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was, and I didn’t want to tell you and make it real before I really knew.”

“Oh, baby,” Hotch murmured, and he felt Wendell’s shoulders hitch as he started to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” Wendell said.  “I never wanted to—to...”

“Wendell, what are you sorry for?” Hotch said, kneeling in front of Wendell’s chair.  He carefully wiped tears from Wendell’s face and squeezed his good hand.  “You can’t help something like this.”

“Ewing’s sarcoma is _bad_ ,” Wendell said, his voice breaking.  “The mortality rate is 80%.  Only 10% of people survive long term.”

The statistics hit Hotch like a punch in the gut.  It must have shown on his face, because Wendell started to sob.

“I’m so sorry,” Wendell said again.  “I never wanted to do something like this to you and Jack.  You already lost Haley.  I don’t want to do this to you.”

“Hey,” Hotch said softly.  He was crying, but quietly, like his body hadn’t really realized what was happening yet.  “Wendell, breathe, baby.  Come on.”

Somehow Wendell ended up in the floor with Hotch.  He pressed his face against the older man’s collarbone, and Hotch rocked back and forth until he could breathe again.

“You’re not doing anything to me,” Hotch murmured lowly, still rocking Wendell and rubbing circles against his back.  “This is what family is.  We’re not just there for each other when it’s easy.  We’re here when it’s hard and when it hurts.  We’re a family, Wendell.  I’ve got you.  You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I watched what cancer did to my dad,” Wendell said.  “I went to see Booth because… because I don’t want to be as sick from chemo as I am from the cancer and then die anyways.  I thought about making up some bullshit reason to break up with you and quitting my job and taking off.  I don’t want to make you watch me die.”

The idea of Wendell leaving him to go through this alone made Hotch nauseous, but he kept up his motions and murmured assurances.

“When do you start treatment?” Hotch asked when Wendell had calmed down again.

“Tuesday.”

“Okay,” Hotch said, nodding.  “I’ll take the day off and come with you.”

“Aaron,” Wendell said, “Booth kept saying that—that I’m going to beat it and everything’s going to be okay.  But I need to know that you and Jack are going to be okay even if I don’t.”

Hotch swallowed hard.  He and Wendell had dated for a long time before they moved in together, but Wendell’s role in Jack’s life was cemented long before that.  Wendell was halfway between the fun parent and a cool older brother.  While Hotch was in charge of bedtimes and timeouts, Wendell brought orange slices and Caprisuns to every soccer game.  He picked Jack up from school on the days he didn’t have work or class.  His job was demanding, but it didn’t require him to travel—Wendell came home every night.  There was no denying that losing him would be painful for Jack and devastating for Hotch.

“I’m not going to lie to you and say we would be fine,” Hotch said quietly, looking out across the bullpen.  He hadn’t thought to close the blinds when he closed the door, and now his team was pretending not to watch them fall apart.  “It would take time, but we have people who would be here for us.  We would be okay.”

Wendell nodded and let Hotch help him out of the floor.

“Is it okay if I tell my team what’s going on?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah,” Wendell said, wiping his nose.  “I guess it doesn’t take a profiler to know something’s up.”

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

The team scrambled to act casual as soon as Hotch opened the door.  Prentiss and Morgan grabbed files to flip through, and Rossi averted his gaze.  Reid stared openly though.

“Wendell was diagnosed with Ewing’s sarcoma today,” Hotch said without bothering to get their attention.

“Ewing’s sarcoma?” Morgan repeated.

“It’s a cancer of the bones and soft tissues,” Reid said.  “It affects mostly children and young adults and typically begins in the legs, pelvis, or arms.  The survival rate is--”

Reid cut himself off.

“20% short term, 10% long term,” Hotch finished.  “We know.  I’m going to go ahead and take him home.”

“Of course,” Prentiss said softly.  “Is there anything you guys need?”

“I don’t really know right now,” Hotch admitted.  “He’ll probably want to work on Monday just to keep his mind off it, but he starts treatment on Tuesday.”

“I’ll talk to Strauss for you,” Rossi volunteered.  “And I’m sure we can pool vacation days for you if you end up needing more later.”

“Thank you,” Hotch said, nodding.

The first half of the drive home was quiet.  Wendell fiddled with the radio of several minutes before finding a station and settling back in his seat.  He was still cradling his broken arm in his lap.

“I have a good doctor,” Wendell said.  “He’s a friend of Dr. B’s.  She’s been calling in favors since she saw my X-rays.”

“Dr. Brennan is a good person to know,” Hotch said, and Wendell agreed.

“Aaron,” he said a few minutes later.  “I really want to stay.”

Wendell stared at his partner across the center console and hoped that Hotch understood what he meant.  He wanted to live.  He wanted to finish school and marry Aaron and see Jack grow up.  He wanted to be at every soccer game and science fair and parent-teacher conference.  He wanted to have anniversaries and make pancakes on Sunday mornings and be happy.  He wanted it all so bad.

“Then we’ll fight it,” Aaron said, reaching over to take Wendell’s hand and squeezing it like he understood exactly what he hadn’t said.  “Together.”


End file.
